


You Keep Making Me Ill

by MCRmyGeneral



Series: Words I Never Said [4]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Angst, Closeted Character, Emotional Abuse, F/M, Forced Wedding, Hate Fuck, Heartbreak, Homophobia, M/M, Pregnancy, Referenced Child Abuse, Shotgun Wedding, Smut, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 04:02:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10235441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MCRmyGeneral/pseuds/MCRmyGeneral
Summary: "Not everybody just gets to blurt out how they fuckin' feel every minute."Pre-wedding sex scene from 3x11, extra smutty. ;)





	

**Author's Note:**

> For tumblr anon. I hope you like it!
> 
> Title is from Just Like A Pill by P!nk.

The wind whipped around Ian as he walked toward the VFW. There was a banner above the entrance that said something about the Milkovich wedding, and he rolled his eyes at it.

Instead of walking through the front door and possibly into Terry or Mandy, Ian crept around the side. He and Lip had snuck into the VFW countless times during their adolescence to drink and get high, so he knew the sprawling building like the back of his hand. He knew what closets would be unlocked, for potential hiding spots if he needed. He knew which air duct could get him all the way to the roof, and he knew where every garbage chute was if he needed a speedy, if unfavorable, getaway. He also knew exactly where the main hall was, which was where the wedding would most likely be, and which rooms branched off of it.

Thankfully the few people he encountered were busy, nobody looking twice at the ordinary boy walking through the halls. He found the main hall, and sneered at all the people already gathered in the seats. A banner on the wall read ‘Mickey + Svetlana 4-ever’ and it made Ian gag, roll his eyes and snicker all at the same time. Terry _had_ to know that this whole thing was an epic joke. He'd be an idiot not to. Well, he was an idiot anyway, this just made it that much more clear.

Ian's heart sped up as he looked for Mickey. He found himself peeking around corners as he snuck through the halls that were filling up quickly. He caught glimpses of people he knew here and there; Iggy, Colin, a few of Terry’s friends that frequented the Alibi. He was getting closer and closer to getting caught, but no closer to finding Mickey. He got more and more frantic as he looked through every corridor and through every doorway. Before he knew it, he was running, running through the crowd, running to find Mickey. There were only so many places to hide in the building.

Ian took a wild guess and sprinted into the old cafeteria, his eyes thankfully landing on a short figure in a too-large, awkward looking tux. He had never seen Mickey look so utterly uncomfortable. If he wasn’t so anxious, he’d have chuckled.

Mickey looked at him, something flashing behind his eyes. Was that relief? Happiness? Affection? Whatever it was, Mickey had reigned it in almost immediately.

Ian’s mouth set into a scowl as he strolled into the room.

“You call me a punk for wanting a boyfriend or whatever, but you're gonna marry someone who screws guys for a living?” He threw at Mickey, getting louder and more annoyed as he spoke.

“Who gives a shit? It's a fucking piece of paper,” Mickey insisted, scowling.

Ian shook his head softly. “Not to me.”

Mickey scoffed, and Ian turned away.

“Never mind. I don’t even know why I’m here,” He threw over his shoulder. Mickey took a step toward him, stumbling on his words.

“Hey, come on- look.”

Ian turned back around, staring Mickey down.

“Just 'cause I'm getting hitched doesn't mean we can't still bang. Okay? All right?”

Ian rolled his eyes. “That’s it? That’s your compromise? You get married and I take my faithful position as your side ho? Your mistress?”

Mickey ran his tongue along his teeth, and Ian sighed.

“If you give half a shit about me, Mickey,” He said, stepping forward.

Mickey halted him with a less-than-convincing hand on his chest. “Hey, hey,” He warned halfheartedly.

“Half,” Ian said firmly. “If you care about me at all, even as a friend. Please, Mick. Don't do this.”

Mickey frowned, looking up at Ian. He _did_ care. And that was why he had to do this. But he didn’t say anything. He knew that Ian wasn’t looking for an explanation right now.

Mickey couldn’t keep his eyes off Ian’s lips. They moved from his mouth to his eyes and back again. He couldn’t help himself; he lunged forward, lips falling against Ian’s like second nature, like they’d been making out for years instead of a week. His hand wrapped around the back of Ian’s neck, and Ian’s hands knotted in his dress shirt. He pushed the redhead backward, into a small connected nook. Ian fell against the door, his hands slipping under Mickey’s tux jacket and pushing it to the floor. Mickey did the same, tearing off Ian’s sweatshirt and ripping his shirt over his head.

Ian was floored, happy beyond belief that things weren’t over between him and Mickey. He had spent the last three days terrified that their ‘relationship’ was over, crying over the thought of losing what they’d once had, and now he felt a sense of relief so strong that it made his knees weak. Well, it may have been relief, or it may have been Mickey’s hips rolling, rubbing his erection against Ian’s own.

“Fuck,” Ian whispered against Mickey’s lips, lights flying behind his eyes with Mickey’s every thrust against him. His fingers were going numb as he worked at the buttons on Mickey’s shirt.

Mickey was just as impatient, unbuckling Ian’s belt with a ferocity that Ian had never seen from the boy before, like he was aching to touch Ian.

Ian grabbed him and spun, slamming him against the wall maybe a little too harshly, but Mickey didn’t seem to mind. All Mickey seemed to care about was getting his tongue back in Ian’s mouth, and his hand in Ian’s jeans.

Ian twirled Mickey around with a firm hand on his shoulder, reaching around him to unzip his pants and pull them down to his thighs. Mickey leaned forward slightly, bracing his hands on the wall in front of him, giving him better leverage to grind his ass against Ian’s erection. Ian set one hand on the back of Mickey’s neck and shoved the other in his face.

“Suck,” He demanded, a low growl in his chest.

Mickey shuddered at the sound, his dick hardening even more than it already was. ‘Take Charge’ Ian was Mickey’s favorite Ian. He did as he was instructed, drawing two of Ian’s long, strong fingers into his mouth and twirling his tongue around them.

“Oh, god, Mickey,” Ian groaned, throwing his head back. He bit his lip as he watched Mickey suck his hand off, tongue swirling between the two digits and spit dripping down his skin.

Ian could barely take it. He had to pull his fingers away. If he didn’t, Mickey might bring him off just like that. The kid certainly knew how to use his mouth, and Ian wished he was confident enough to blow him. Ian had blown him a few times, but Mickey was always too scared to go down on Ian, much to the boy’s extreme annoyance.

Ian kept the hand on Mickey’s neck firm as he slowly worked one slick finger into him, Mickey groaned and hung his head as he felt Ian’s careful movements, trying to both work him open quickly and thoroughly. He’d honestly rather have it be quick than thorough, even though being half-prepped when Ian started fucking him always left Mickey sore and aching for a few days afterward. He didn’t care though. He’d rather have Ian balls-deep in him sooner.

Ian had the same mindset today, barely giving Mickey time to adjust to the second finger before he drew them both out and replaced them with the head of his cock.

“Fuck, Gallagher,” Mickey groaned, breath hitching in his throat as Ian started pushing in.

Ian bit his lip harder than was necessary, on the verge of breaking skin. He couldn’t help himself; Mickey felt too good clenched warm and wet around him.

“Jesus, Mickey,” He moaned, setting his forehead between Mickey’s shoulder blades. He dug both hands into Mickey’s hips, fingernails biting into the soft skin there, marking the pale white with screaming crimson. He knew the crescents would bruise, but he didn’t care. He was still a little angry, and making Mickey hurt was almost cathartic. He didn’t want to hurt him _too_ bad, because he still loved him, he just wanted him to feel a little pain. It never hurt anyone before.

Ian drew out and back in, then again, then quicker and quicker, building to the fast, messy, hard rhythm that both he and Mickey liked.

“God _damn_ ,” Mickey groaned, clenching his teeth.

Ian wasn’t fucking around today. He was here for a reason. And apparently that reason was making sure that Mickey knew that he’d never be fucked this well again. He’d never feel this connection, this unspoken _whatever_ he had with Ian with anybody else. He certainly knew he didn’t feel shit with Svetlana. No, _this_ was how it was supposed to feel, like you couldn’t bear to go more than five minutes with touching the other, like you breathed easier when they were in the room. This was what love felt like, and as uncomfortable as the thought made Mickey, he wasn’t surprised. He knew he’d had extremely strong feelings for Ian, but he also knew that they couldn’t ever come to a head, for more reasons than one. So he’d take that he could get. This might be the last time he’d ever feel Ian so close, so intimately. And damn if he was gonna waste it.

Ian licked at Mickey’s neck, savoring the salt on his tongue.

“Mickey?”

Ian paused when he heard Mandy’s voice from somewhere close. Mickey’s eyes widened, but his cock stayed firmly at attention. He was so turned on that even Mandy couldn’t shrink him right now.

The door to the main room opened, and heels clicked on the hardwood floor.

“Mickey?”

Ian smirked and smacked a hand over Mickey’s mouth to muffle his grunting, but he didn’t stop thrusting into him. Mickey’s eyes rolled back in his head, the thrill of nearly getting caught only making things better.

After a moment, the heels turned around and after that, the door closed again, and Mickey pried Ian’s hand off his mouth.

“Fuck, Ian,” He gasped. Ian felt him clenching around his erection, and he knew Mickey was on the verge of his orgasm. He wrapped his free hand around Mickey’s cock, pumping him in time with his thrusts, which had Mickey moaning and almost whimpering with how ready he was.

“Fuck,” Mickey keened, his voice going higher when his orgasm hit, cumming hard over Ian’s hand. He panted and rocked his hips backward against Ian.

Ian took his clean hand from Mickey’s hip and brought it up to run across his chest, pulling him backwards against his chest and locking him there. He stopped thrusting and instead started rolling his hips, groaning hot and low in Mickey’s ear as he fell over his own edge, spurting inside Mickey with a deep moan of the boy’s name, which made a scarlet blush creep over Mickey’s cheeks.

Mickey fell forward like he had been before, hands braced against the wall. Ian didn’t move, either, he just leaned against Mickey lightly. Mickey couldn’t take his eyes from Ian’s dirty hand, was nearly hypnotized as he watched his own orgasm drip slow and thick from Ian’s fingertips. The sight turned him on more than he thought it would. Truth be told, Ian found it strangely sexy too, which was why he hadn’t wiped the cum off on one of the rags left behind by the janitors yet.

Mickey panted as he finally detached himself from Ian, pulling his clothes back on slowly.

Ian finally gave in and rubbed the now mostly-dry semen from his hand, tossing the dirty rag across the room. He buckled up his jeans and pulled his shirt back on.

Ian caught Mickey as he walked over to get his jacket, pulling him for one last hard, angry kiss, punctuating the kiss with a sharp nip to Mickey’s bottom lip, nearly hard enough to break skin.

Mickey smiled at the boy in a kind of fucked-out awe, watched him pull a cigarette from his pocket and light it up, taking a long drag as they both threw their jackets back on.

“God _damn_ , Gallagher,” Mickey sighed, and Ian blushed, “I oughta get you pissed off more often.”

“So, what are we gonna do?” Ian asked, offering Mickey the cigarette. “We gonna tell everyone to leave?”

Mickey’s heart fell. Ian still didn’t get it. He shook his head as he pulled on the cigarette, hoping that his face wouldn’t give his emotions away. “Nah,” He said as nonchalantly as he could. “I'll go get this shit over with, And, uh, you can wait here for me. Shouldn't take more than an hour, right?” He asked hypothetically, and Ian’s brow furrowed. “You better be ready for round two,” Mickey joked, hoping it would do _something_ to lighten the mood. Of course, it didn’t.

“You're not seriously going through with this, are you?”

Mickey sighed again. “Why are you acting like I got a choice in this?”

“Why do you think you don’t, Mick?”

“I don’t,” Mickey insisted.

“This is bullshit,” Ian said with a sarcastic chuckle. “Listen to me, Mickey. Your dad is an evil, psychotic _prick_. You're just gonna let him ruin your life?” He asked, getting back into Mickey’s face.

Mickey scowled. Ian needed a serious reality check, and Mickey needed to be the one to administer it. “You need to grow the fuck up,” He threw at Ian, who took a step back. “Don't act like you know a thing about my dad.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Why do you think I’m letting him do this to me, Ian?”

Ian frowned.

“You think this is fun for me? You think I wanna get married to some stranger at 18? I’m doing what I need to do, because if I don’t-” He cut himself off, taking another drag from the cigarette.

“If you don’t?” Ian pressed.

“What do you think, Gallagher? You think you and I just ride off into the sunset? That’s not how it works. Trust me, this is the best decision. It gets my dad off my back, and it-” He sighed. “It keeps you safe.”

Ian shook his head angrily. “Don’t try to tell me you’re doing this for me.”

Anger surged through Mickey’s veins. “You think I’m doing this just for me? Don’t be an idiot.”

Ian scowled and shook his head. “You don’t care about me. You never did,” He threw over his shoulder as he walked toward the door.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Mickey all but yelled, running to block his path. “You think I don’t care?”

“I _know_ you don't,” Ian spat, and Mickey scoffed.

“I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

Ian raised an eyebrow and tried to walk away again.

Mickey looked down at his feet and sighed. “Not everybody gets to just-” He said sadly, and Ian turned back around to look at him. “Not everybody just gets to blurt out how they fuckin' feel every minute. It’s not so easy for some of us to admit,” He confessed, sadness in his voice.

Ian looked deep into those vibrant eyes he loved so much. There was something there, he was certain. But before he could place it, the door opened back up, and Mandy sauntered in again.

“Hey, where have you been? Everyone's looking for you.”

“I'm having a fuckin' smoke. Is that all right?”

Mandy scowled. “It’s fine, assface, I was just curious. Where were you? I was just in here.”

“We were outside,” Ian supplied, saving Mickey from any more probing questions.

Mickey threw one last sad look over his shoulder toward Ian and left, shuffling past Mandy on his way out.

Mandy turned to Ian. “You just get here?”

“Yeah,” Ian said with a nod.

“I didn't know you were coming.”

He shrugged. “Last-minute decision.”

“Okay. Come on,” She said, holding her hand out for the boy.

As childish as it seemed, Ian was grateful for that small gesture, Mandy’s familiar touch. He wanted so badly to cry right now, and he wasn’t sure how he was managing to hold himself together. It was a little easier with Mandy’s fingers twined with his.

Ian followed Mandy back toward the main hall, sitting down next to her. He squirmed and shot Mickey dirty looks as everyone waited for his bride to made her appearance. Mickey looked awkward and uncomfortable, and it made Ian happy in a sadistic way. He deserved this.

There were oohs and ahhs when Svetlana finally walked in, in white stripper heels and made up like a whore. Ian rolled his eyes at her. He watched her walk down the aisle, his eyes landing on where Terry was sizing her up like a hungry dog, not even caring that she was literally getting married, to his _son_. Terry was exactly that; a dog. At some point, he’d looked over and caught Ian’s eye, smirking in proud glee. He’d won, and there was no denying that.

Ian frowned and stomped over to the bar. Fuck Terry, fuck Svetlana, and especially fuck Mickey.

Ian poured three fingers of vodka into a plastic cup and brought it to his lips, stopping for a moment before he actually drank it.

Was this necessary? Was he that weak? Did this hurt him that badly?

Then he saw Svetlana reach out and grab Mickey’s hand, squeezing his tattooed fingers.  
Ian swallowed the lump in his throat and chased it with the vodka, immediately refilling his cup and drinking that down, too.

Yeah. It was necessary.

**Author's Note:**

> I take requests and prompts! Let me know what you'd like to see [here](http://ieroween1031.tumblr.com/ask)!


End file.
